


steal some covers, share some skin

by whisperedwords



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Contact your dentist after reading this because /writing/ it made my teeth rot, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2047347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedwords/pseuds/whisperedwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first Sunday morning they have off—like, really off; no aliens, no crazy Hydra agents, no neighbors knocking on Sam’s front door to thank both of them for keeping Washington DC safe even though it’s been a damn year and a half—Steve gets up with his internal alarm clock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	steal some covers, share some skin

The first Sunday morning they have off—like, really off; no aliens, no crazy Hydra agents, no _neighbors_ knocking on Sam’s front door to thank both of them for keeping Washington DC safe even though it’s been a damn year and a half—Steve gets up with his internal alarm clock. It’s not a surprise, really: he’s always been an early riser, even before the serum. He looks over to the clock sitting on the table on his side of the bed. _6:15_ , the red numbers read. Steve sighs, turning away from it. He chooses to focus on the man lying beside him, who’s currently snoring lightly and curled up in their blankets. It brings a smile to Steve’s face. He easily settles back down into the mattress and wraps an arm around his partner’s waist.

“Mmmmghm?” Sam grumbles. “What’re you wakin’ me up for, Rogers.” It’s not really a question, Steve knows. Sam’s just not a morning person.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in reply, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Sam’s bare shoulder. “Old habits die hard, I guess.” He feels Sam moving against him, snuggling further into Steve’s arms.

“Don’t care, old man.” Sam responds, his voice thick with sleep. “Gimme like…” Steve hears the clatter of Sam’s hand searching for the alarm clock on his side. He smirks. “Three hours. I’ll be awake then.” He pauses. “Probably.”

Steve sighs in exaggerated acceptance. “ _Fine_.” He rolls away from Sam and out of bed, wiggling his ass tauntingly as he heads towards the door. He turns back to make a snide comment, only to see that Sam had fallen back asleep, mouth slightly agape as he snores. The commentary dies on Steve’s tongue. _God_ , he loves Sam. Wordlessly, he steps into a pair of strategically-placed slippers and pads into the kitchen, where he brews a pot of coffee and picks up a discarded magazine to skim through. The headlines are meaningless, really—celebrities getting divorced, ridiculous trends that Steve can’t really understand. Nothing valuable. He sips at his mug of coffee.

“Steve.” He hears, and turns his head so quick he feels the whiplash. It doesn’t really sound like a cry for help, but he knows that it’s Sam, and it takes about four big strides to make it to their room. He opens the door, worry building in his chest.

All he sees is Sam, lying on his back, rocking his hips upwards beneath the comforter. Relief comes instantly, and Steve exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding. But then something else creeps back in its place—with a devious smile, he crawls onto the bed and brackets Sam between his arms. He dips down and brushes his lips against Sam’s, brief and gentle and _torturous_ for himself. But he holds himself still, lips slightly parted, and lets the man beneath him arch back up for another barely-there kiss. This time, there’s more contact, and Sam’s eyes blink open slowly, looking up into the soft curve of Steve’s smile.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” He asks in a teasing whisper. Steve blushes slightly, but shakes his head, a glint of trouble in his eyes.

“Heard you calling me. Figured it was something important, but…” He trails off, eyes drifting south. “This works too.”

“You’ve got coffee breath, man,” Sam chuckles, wrapping an arm around Steve’s neck and wrinkling his nose in mock-disgust. Steve hums in acknowledgement. “And you didn’t bother gettin’ me any? What kind of boyfriend _are_ you, Rogers?”

Steve’s heart skips a beat, hearing Sam say that word out loud. _Boyfriend_. It shouldn’t make him as giddy as it does. He swallows down the butterflies, though, and puts on a showy smirk. “I could, if you wanted—” He starts to get up.

“Hey, hey, did I ask you to get it for me?” Sam responds, tugging him closer and resting their foreheads together. “Nah, don’t go anywhere. You’ll do just fine.” He closes the minimal space between them and kisses Steve, running a hand through his hair and letting his nails rake his scalp just slightly. It’s lazy—Sam is still partially asleep, and Steve doesn’t have anywhere to be today—and so they take their time, not really intent on getting anywhere. They part for air, and Steve chuckles, the heat of his breath hitting Sam’s lips in a way that makes him shiver slightly.

“You think _my_ breath is bad?” He teases softly, nuzzling Sam’s cheek with his nose. “You’ve got a pretty serious case of morning breath yourself.” Sam slaps him square in the chest gently, letting his hand linger against Steve’s hot skin. He grins up at him, full on, and it feels like Steve is looking into the sun. He takes another breath.

“You started it.” Sam says finally, the hand on his chest turning into a single, pointing finger. Steve laughs, kissing his nose and forehead and then coming back to his mouth.

“You’re damn lucky I love you.” Steve mumbles, emphasizing the shape of each word on his lips to brush against Sam’s. Sam hums in response, giving him a chaste kiss and then letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Yeah. Guess I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> there is not enough domestic samsteve in this ao3 tag and i'm very disappointed in all of you. just kidding (mostly). this is me fulfilling my dream "lazy sunday morning" prompt i keep talking about. title from maroon 5's song Sunday Morning. (also, obligatory "i don't own these characters" comment. you'd know damn well if i did.)


End file.
